


dying embers still give off warmth

by 2davidbeckham3



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Ambiguous timeline - References to real events, Gen, LA Galaxy centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 02:53:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8428633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2davidbeckham3/pseuds/2davidbeckham3
Summary: L.A. really isn't that different. At least, that's what Stevie keeps on reminding himself. Still, it's hard to move forward while resisting the urge to look back.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this uncompleted outline in my drafts for almost four months - since after Gio scored a goal from Stevie's assist. I'm only posting a part because I wanted to get this done before play offs, and possibly before everyone and their mother retires, but it's hard. (Especially since Landon came back, you have no idea how furious I was fic-wise. He ruined my plans).
> 
> This first part's focusing on Stevie, it's the only part I have somewhat coherently written, lol. (temporary title, tbh)

_Hope rises like a phoenix from the ashes of shattered dreams - S.A. Sachs_

 

 

Stevie doesn’t expect it all to be so similar, but he realizes he shouldn’t be so surprised.

 

Football a universal constant. (Sometimes played with a brown, pointed ball with white laces, depending on who one asks.) Here it might be known as soccer, but the concept is exactly the same. A green pitch, two goals, twenty-two players trying to earn three points in each to advance with generally incompetent referees guiding them through the match.

 

It’s the same as back home.

 

Almost.

 

It would have been, if it wasn’t for the fact that the weather in California defaults to constant sun instead of persistent grey, overcast, and, mostly rainy, skies. The grass isn’t as lush green – though anything could be considered lush in contrast to the industrial city that was Liverpool – instead dry underbrush within the sprawling city of Los Angeles serves as the backdrop to their games. Honestly, it makes him feel a bit claustrophobic: the fact that the city spreads for what seems to be as far as all of England and its adjoining dominions; not to mention that its own natural medieval fort-like wall in the Sierra Nevada. (Though, imagining that the mountains were crowding and confining L.A. was a bit of a stretch. Not that anything seemed to be able to contain the ever expanding metropolis. Still, the sentiment remained the same.) For the next eighteen months, the pitch in the StubHub Center will have to do as his oasis within this crowded unknown. A blink of an eye, in terms of his long career, but long enough.

 

***

 

It’s a rocky transition from the start. His agent called it auspicious, but it was hard to believe. 

 

Negotiations with Liverpool were dragging on, though Stevie would say it was through no fault of his own. He knew what he was capable of, but everyone refused to see it. It was painful enough, public enough that he accepted his agent’s suggestions to look at other options around the second time he asked.

 

That’s how Stevie found himself in his first ever semi-formal three-way Skype call on a Thursday afternoon. Semi-formal only because he chucked his tie while the call rang. Though, in retrospect, he should have ditched his waistcoat.

 

The whole ordeal was awkward to say the least. Pixelated and slow, Stevie wasn’t sure how much more personal the mess was than a phone call, but, then again, conference calls did involve a lot more interrupting and just about the same amounts of uncomfortable silences. At least no one would have seen his discomfort, at least. Still, Stevie powered through the call, making sure to nod politely when his agent mentioned the usual buzzwords.

 

Even so, Arena was difficult to read. Unflappably professional and stern in a manner distinctly non-European that made Stevie fidget. Not to mention the fact that a certain someone’s unnamed presence loomed conspicuously over the meeting.

 

Which is how Stevie finds himself blurting out “I’m not going to be another David Beckham,” much to his agent’s chagrin. Stevie needed to set the record straight. He knew there were certain expectations attached to even the mere act of referring to one’s self in the same sentence as David Beckham. David was David. And Stevie was, well, not.

  
Arena just gives a loud, boisterous laugh that takes Stevie by surprise. Even though Bruce had been very kind and welcoming during the call, more so than what his initial demeanor led Stevie to expect, Arena’s response deviated from the strict professional attitude he had adopted for the call.

  
“There’s never gonna be another David.” Arena’s tone is lacking any of the bitterness Stevie expected from the pair’s rumored fallout. There’s a certain hint of fondness in his grin that makes it seem like he’s talking about an exceptionally rowdy player instead of a celebrity that was too big for the club. It reminds Stevie of the conversation he had with David a few weeks prior where he spoke about his time in the U.S. with unmistakable warmth. Granted, it isn’t very nice of Stevie to doubt what David had told him and to think of his as a front, but it’s a relief to see the Arena amused rather than insulted all the same, “I’m not expecting you to be Landon’s replacement, either. We would like someone like you, Steven.”  

  
_We need someone like you._

  
They weren’t at that point, yet, but Stevie could read the between the lines well enough. Even with an ocean between them, Stevie feels the sentiment creeping through his skin and making itself at home in his bones with a gentle thrum.  


  
_We need you._  


  
It was nice to feel needed, a ghost of an emotion that seems to have dissipated throughout Brendan’s tenure. It was a gradual process, almost unnoticeable at first – excusable, really – but Stevie had almost reached his breaking point. The Galaxy didn’t just want him, he wasn’t just some gimmick. Maybe Arena was a better business man than Stevie thought, but the pieces of his, formally simple career, were being rearranged without his consent.

  
Stevie’s choice was being made for him. At some point, his thoughts had changed from:  


  
_“I’m going to retire at Liverpool.”_  


  
_“I want to retire at Liverpool.”_  


  
_“I would like to retire at Liverpool.”_  
  


__  
Futilely grasping at straws while trying to fight against the club’s representatives who could only give him that their pursed lips and sympathetic glances. The only option left was for him to retire sooner than later in order to make his dream come true, but Stevie wanted to retire playing, not on the bench.  


  
He could still play.  


  
He can still play.  
  


Now he was gifted with the opportunity to regain control of his future and guide it towards an ending that suited him.  
  


Even if it might just be for looks, Arena believes in him.  
  


It’s striking how little it takes for Stevie’s heart to skip a beat.  
  


_We would like someone like you._  
  
  


*** __  
  
  


It’s only the thought of Anfield singing that makes him hesitate.  
  


_At the end of a storm, there’s a golden sky._

They would understand.                                    

 

**Author's Note:**

> (Making the text small because this is going to be long) It's really daunting publishing this since Gerlonso - I'm pretty sure - was what got me into footie fandom fic and all of the works concerning either of the two is spectacular (Honestly, check the tag out. Literally every single story is amazing and I admire so many authors.) Also, I last edited this after I first saw the "How to Write A Gerlonso Fic" post circulated around tumblr, so forgive the throwaway YNWA reference - I felt like including it for the bantz. By the way, so much talk about Gerlonso and I promise you this is not a Gerlonso fic. It started off with like 50973053 pairings, including, but not limited to, Stevie/Keano and Becks/Keano to name a few examples, but I changed my mind and decided to make this a gen fic. (The references are still going to be there if you squint, everything's up for interpretation.) [See [David Beckham with a fan.](http://i.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2012/12/06/article-2243829-1658BCF8000005DC-464_634x409.jpg) The whole article it comes from is gold, btw.]  
>   
>  To conclude this large author's note, I want to thank everyone for reading and hope you enjoyed this fic. I don't know if I will continue, given all of the transfer rumors circling around Stevie right now and the fact that I stopped properly keeping up with the MLS after Copa (Sorry Kaká.) However, I do want to! I'll probably finish and paste it all in one big chapter in the end, since I didn't plan this to be a chaptered fic.  
>    
> Suggestions and feedback are welcomed with open arms. I do have a lot of MLS content planned, too! (Moment of silence for the Lampilla fic I deleted by accidentally pasting another fic over it.) Hit me up on [tumblr](http://kaligaga.tumblr.com) if you wanna talk about the league and stuff! _NEVER HUNT ALONE ;)_
> 
> i also want to give a special shoutout to a pair of authors that posted a Stevie in LA fic literally like 2 days after i started outlining this one! they read my mind! (i don't really talk to them so idk if i'm allowed to mention them by name, but i really wasn't lying when i said to check the Stevie tag out. everyone's amazing.)


End file.
